


The Morning Light

by ZoS



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, F/F, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 20:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18239618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoS/pseuds/ZoS
Summary: It's early, they're alone, and they can't seem to stay away.





	The Morning Light

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, guys, I don't normally get blown away by fanart, but there comes a time in one's life when one sees a drawing so good one wants to write a fic based on it.
> 
> This idea came to me after seeing a picture created by this person on Instagram: https://instagram.com/steeviens?utm_source=ig_profile_share&igshid=l9vc8g4d5to2 (check out their work, it's really good!).
> 
> With their full permission, I went ahead and wrote this little piece. Here is the original art: https://www.instagram.com/p/Bu8ku-3ARMx/?utm_source=ig_share_sheet&igshid=ml6k6c9e6ud0

At 6 A.M., the _Runway_ offices are pretty much devoid of life, but the doors to Miranda's office are still closed and locked. Inside, the lights are off; the space lit only by the few rays of early morning sunshine seeping in through the windows to cast their glow on the walls, the carpet, and the two women in the center of the room.

Andy presses her lips to Miranda's once more before pulling away, but only enough to back her into the desk, grab the backs of her thighs, and lift. With a surprised yelp from the older woman, which quickly transforms into a moan, she's on the desk, her legs parting to allow Andy room between them.

And then Andy is on her again: holding, kissing, feeling. One hand places itself in the small of Miranda's back while the other one runs up and down a toned thigh, each time hiking the black pencil skirt a little bit higher. It's all the encouragement Miranda needs to wrap both arms around Andy's neck and kiss harder, deeper.

They can't really afford to be slow and take their time in the familiar exploration, despite the early hour, but their motions are languid nevertheless, their kiss is sensual and thorough. Andy finally gets Miranda's skirt high enough to reveal the lacy top of a nude stocking, clinging to the thigh, it seems, by sheer will alone. As a reward, Miranda's legs spread a little wider, a hint of white lace in their apex.

Almost of its own volition, the hand on her back tightens its hold and with a gasp and then another moan, Miranda's front is pressed against Andy's, their breasts touching, the heat between Miranda's thighs emanating through the scarce fabric.

Miranda goes limp against her lover, even as one hand grips the back of a bare neck--short, manicured nails digging into the skin while a silky smooth ponytail caresses the backs of them--while the other one falls loosely against a shoulder, allowing Andy to take the reins.

Andy does, holding onto the soft material at Miranda's thigh and delving deeper with her tongue until Miranda's breaths end on tiny, needy whimpers and her muscles start quivering. It's how Andy likes her best: wanton, willing, pliant with need.

A few more minutes of teasing, of withholding, and she'll start begging. But they don't have time for that, and while Andy doesn't particularly like rushing things when the alternative is so deliciously alluring, she's also not very keen on getting caught screwing her boss.

So she lets go of Miranda's thigh and she pushes the skirt further up for better access and she rubs her fingers up and down the thin fabric at her center and Miranda sighs and drags her lips away from Andy's and down her chin. There'll be lipstick stains to clean up later.

It's the work of seconds to move the piece of lace to the side, already damp with the evidence of Miranda's arousal, and then the backs of Andy's fingers are moving again, making direct contact with the sleek and twitching flesh while Miranda's own fingers dig harder into her neck.

She's already wet, Andy notes with delight, her clit pulsating eagerly against her touch, begging for stimulation. Which Andy grants, but only enough to take the edge off, to provide some relief while still building up, building up--

"Inside," Miranda breathes against her ear, her lips offering the whisper of a touch against Andy's cheek and raising goosebumps on her skin. She then promptly melts against her as Andy obliges, inserting first one finger into the silky warmth, which grasps her in response and squeezes rhythmically.

A second finger is quick to follow and then a steady rhythm is set, a deep motion that ends on a curl of the digits, a push to the rough patch of flesh, and a whimpering sigh from Miranda's mouth.

No longer within reach of her lips, Andy attaches hers to the side of Miranda's neck, which elongates in response, granting her further access. The skin is warm and smooth and the various scents of soap, lotion, and perfume are still fresh from her morning routine. When Andy's tongue peeks out to sneak a taste, Miranda whines and clings tighter.

It's after a few more minutes of slow, deep thrusting, however, that she lets go of Andy in order to recline on the glass surface behind her, supported by her forearms and peering at Andy through hooded eyes.

As Andy intensifies the pace of her strokes, Miranda reaches for the V-cut of her blouse. It's a simple, white, cashmere garment (as simple as designer label goes), but on Miranda it looks exquisite, and when her fingers part the two sides of the material, exposing creamy, white mounds in increasing increments, all the while maintaining a piercing blue-green gaze, Andy begins to feel dizzy.

The brown peaks call to her, tightly furled like rosebuds and begging for the touch of her waterning mouth. She's happy to indulge both them and herself, angling her wrist so she can lean down and capture one within her lips, her other hand supporting her weight above Miranda's body.

When her tongue circles the nipple, Miranda gives a kind of mewling sound from deep in her throat as she arches her back, encourages Andy to take in more of the breast. Her breathing starts to come out quicker, heavier, which is when Andy takes her ministrations to the next level and adds her thumb to the fun, pressing it to Miranda's clit.

That's when Miranda shudders, moans, and begins to rock her hips in earnest, meeting Andy thrust for thrust. Around Andy's fingers, more fluid forms, and as her thumb rubs the sensitive nub, Miranda's entire body shakes and a hand grips Andy's shoulder while the other hand buries itself in her ponytail.

They both know that it won't be long now, can feel the early signs announcing Miranda's impending orgasm, and while Andy grants the other nipple the same attention as the previous one, the movement of her fingers between Miranda's thighs quickens.

They hear a dull _thump_ , and then a bare foot rubs up and down Andy's thigh, dragging up the hemline of her dress in the process. The new angle also allows Andy to reach new depths and it's that touch, that spot, along with the incessant attention to her clit, that finally brings Miranda to the finish line.

Her body jerks and spasms as she clings on for dear life, her fingers tightening their grasp on Andy and her sounds muffled by the fabric at her shoulder.

When it's over, her body sags against the desk, pulling Andy down with it. Her grip loosens and her breathing evens out even as her leg continues to move against Andy's. Andy's not sure whether the touch is meant to soothe or entice, but it strangely accomplishes both.

It's not long after that Miranda's hand finds its way between their bodies and underneath Andy's skirt, and then Andy is the one to gasp and moan and sigh as firm fingers slip beneath the waistband of her panties and make contact with her wet warmth.

She tries to keep the weight of her shuddering body steady and off of Miranda as all her sensitive spots receive attention in equal measure. The muscles in her legs strain to hold her up, but she doesn't move, doesn't change their position, just leans down to capture Miranda's lips in hers.

This time, it's not a kiss so much as a series of pecks, matching the pace and softness of Miranda's caresses down below, and then it's Andy's turn to whine and bury her head in the crook of Miranda's neck as she is filled with two fingers. This touch, while still tender, is much firmer, hitting all the right spots and sending her hurtling toward a release of her own.

When she comes, she can't quite keep her moans at bay, and in the back of her mind, she wonders how long they've been at it and if anyone has arrived within the vicinity of their office yet. When she's finished, she can't find it in herself to care.

Afterward, they lie together for a while--neither sure how long, neither willing to move just yet--as their breathing regulates and their bodies regain their strength. They know their time is running out, know that real life must start soon, but for now, they'll bask in this warmth and peace and early morning light just a little bit longer.


End file.
